


All The Lonely People

by EmilyisSOgay



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angry John, BAMF John, Barista John, Bisexual John, Clara is a person of colour, Dominant Bottom, Dominant John, Falling In Love, Fighter John, Fluff, Gay Sherlock, Homeless John, Jealous Sherlock, John Has Issues, John Has Trust Issues, John Whump, John is pretty, Johnlock Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Minor Violence, Older Sherlock, Omega John, Omega Verse, POV Alternating, Pining Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Sassy John, Scenting, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock in Love, Sweet Sherlock, Trash John, Unilock, Younger John, boxer John, but he's still adorable, fight club sort of, flirty john
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyisSOgay/pseuds/EmilyisSOgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omega!John is used to living on the street. He prides himself in his ability to fend off alphas and take care of himself. But when Alpha!Sherlock steps into his life, John begins to realize how lonely he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alive

John woke up with a start. He rose to a low crouch in the back corner of an alley. It was the middle of the night. He had heard noises that startled him into consciousness. He was always ready to wake up at a moment’s notice. Street life on and off for the past three years had helped fine tune his already impeccable reflexes. He heard scuffling feet and the sounds of voices from young men. John pressed his back against the brick building, and willed his breathing to not give away his position. Realistically he knew that it wouldn’t matter if the men couldn’t see or hear him. His scent would undoubtedly give him away if there was an alpha in their group.

            Sure enough John caught the faint traces of two male alphas and one male beta as they passed by his alley. One of the alphas had a low baritone voice that was difficult to hear, and the other was loud and obnoxious. From what John could tell, there was an argument happening. Perhaps they’d be so engrossed in their pissing match that they wouldn’t notice the entrancing scent of the lone omega huddled in the alley. But of course John couldn’t be so lucky.

            “Do you smell that?” the obnoxious alpha asked as if he couldn’t trust his senses.

            The quieter alpha stopped arguing and paused by the alley. “Ah. Yes.” He sounded apprehensive.

            “What is it?” the beta asked.

            “A sweet treat,” the alpha said, licking his lips and entering the alley.

            “Omega male. Young. Unbonded. Works at a coffee shop. On cheap heat suppressants that do nothing to hide his scent,” the other alpha answered. John could hear the man sniffing the air with every new conclusion he made. John gritted his teeth. What a know-it-all.

He stood quickly and shucked off his backpack so he’d be able to fight more easily. He was so used to this routine that he didn’t even feel fear anymore. Adrenaline and endorphins and blood thrummed through his veins. Fighting was exhilarating. He relished calculating the best ways to take down various opponents, and he loved that look of surprise that crossed his attackers’ faces when they saw him smiling and provoking them to fight. Omegas weren’t fighters. Everyone knew they were supposed to be deferential and submissive to alphas. But John wasn’t going to submit. Not now. Not ever.

When he knew he couldn’t win a fight against a group, he would run. Running was a different kind of exhilaration. As long as he escaped the attackers, he didn’t feel as if he was giving up or failing. He was done with taking people’s abuse. Sometimes running was his only choice. It was his system and it served him well. He found it a little problematic at night, since there were no buildings he could hide in or people who would cover up his scent.

“Come out, sweetheart. We won’t hurt you,” the closest alpha said, in a mock-sweet tone that didn’t fool John.

John stood up and moved into the stream of light given by the street lamp. He faced the alpha who had stopped walking towards him, and then his gaze swivelled to the other two men at the mouth of the alley. He didn’t fancy being cornered. John chewed his lip in deliberation. The other alpha stood tall, surveying John with a slight frown on his face. All three of them looked rather tired, and their clothes were mismatched and wrinkled. _Newbies_. Their eyes didn’t hold that sunken, haunted quality that characterized most of the homeless people he knew.

“Ooooh he’s a beauty isn’t he, Sher?” the man said, looking back at the other alpha.

“What do you want?” John asked. His voice didn’t shake. “I have some bread in my backpack if you’re hungry,” he said cheerfully. He already decided that the nearest alpha’s muscular chest would deter a punch to his solar plexus if he were to flex. He’d have to get a blow on the guy’s neck if he wanted to get out of there quickly.

“Oh, I’m hungry all right. But not for bread.”

John rolled his eyes. How predictable. He began inching towards the opening of the alley to see if the guy would follow. The wind gusted and John heard both alphas breathe in deeply. The idiot closest to John let out a low growl, and began stalking towards him. He was in his early twenties and unbonded John noted absently. His bald head shone in the light.

John laughed sardonically. “You think I’d permit _you_ to fuck me?” He said it in a way that implied the man was disgusting and unworthy sharing John’s presence.

There. He saw it. That confusion and surprise when the alpha realized that John wasn’t going to submit. It quickly morphed into anger as he crowded John against the wall; one hand rested against the brick by John’s head. “No one said anything about permission.”

“Ooooh. You’re one of those alphas. No one would touch you willingly so you have to force yourself on the first omega you find. You know there are prostitutes around, but even they’d be hard to convince—” John was abruptly silenced as a huge fist slammed into his mouth and forced his head to smack against the brick. He cursed himself for not seeing it coming. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He sensed the other two men shifting uncomfortably.

“Shut up!”

John laughed again. “Get your disgusting hand away from my face. God knows where it’s been.” John spat out some blood, but kept eye contact with his assailant. He saw a few flecks of crimson dot the man’s cheeks. “And your scent. It’s awful. Smells like fresh dog shit—” That earned John another blow to his cheek this time. He bit down the instinct to whimper at the pain. The idiot alpha didn’t smell as bad as he let on, but John knew insulting an alpha’s scent always riled their temper. An angry alpha would be more focused on fighting than fucking, which always made for a better fight. A low growl rumbled from deep inside John.

The man’s eyes widened and darkened at the same time. Not a good sign. If the man turned feral John knew his strength would be no match against him. He needed out quickly.

“Jeremy, let the kid go. He doesn’t want you,” the other alpha said, but he made no move to help or hinder John. Curious.

Jeremy didn’t hear his friend. He grabbed onto John’s jaw and forced his head to the side so he smell John’s scent properly. “This one smells so much better than any I’ve had, Sher,” he said. “I wonder why.”

            “It’s because he’s not scared,” the other alpha said whose name was apparently Sher. “Fear smells dreadful.”

            John grimaced. He was right in his assumption that the man in front of him was a rapist, if all of his previous conquests had been scared of him. The alpha’s hot breath on his neck made him want to vomit. He let this go on too long. His body tensed suddenly, and he wrenched the hand off his cheek so he could straighten his posture into a fighting stance. John slammed the side of his hand into the guy’s neck at the same time that his left squeezed the alpha’s meaty fingers as hard as he could while bending them backwards until he heard three distinct cracks. The man whimpered and gagged as he was unable to cry out. John let go and shoved the man away from him. He heard him hit the ground while still choking and trying to draw breath.

            “Jeremy?” Finally the idiotic beta said something. He ignored John and ran to the alpha’s side.

            John bolted to the opening of the alley. As he expected, the other alpha blocked his way. John growled at the man and narrowed his eyes. He was too tall to get a good choke hold on him, but his thin frame would be easy enough to barrel down so as to alleviate the alpha’s height advantage. John bent his knees and ran the remaining distance into the alpha. He felt his elbows make bruising contact with the man’s prominent ribs as they both fell backwards onto the pavement. “Don’t you dare touch me, or you’ll end up worse than your friend,” John growled against the alpha’s cheek before pushing off of the peculiarly limp body.

            “I don’t have any friends,” the man on the ground said.

John couldn’t help but laugh at the alpha’s words as he dashed across the road, and bolted through the darkened park. He ran and ran and ran until the blood dripping from his lips had dried and his ribs ached from the constant sprint. Finally, he slowed to a brisk walk. Despite his various aches, he smiled, causing his lip to start bleeding anew. John won again. He would never submit. Not when the alternative made him feel so alive.

 

****

            Sherlock was still laying on the pavement long after that blonde omega had left. He could still catch traces on the omega’s scent lingering on his clothes. It was such a sharp yet smooth scent mixed with so many layers and undertones that would take Sherlock ages to classify. Even for an alpha, his sense of smell was exceptionally strong and the omega’s scent presented a rather delightful conundrum. Sherlock didn’t intervene in the fight, because he could tell by his scent that the boy was actually enjoying himself. He wanted the fight. How curious.

            “Sherlock, get off the damn sidewalk and help me with him.”

            Sherlock blinked, and realized that he had lifted his shirt up and pressed it to his nose to catch the last dregs of the strange boy’s scent. It was quickly disappearing. He frowned, and sat up slowly. The two imbeciles were still situated in the alley. Lestrade had told him to follow and befriend Jeremy Warner who was suspected of brutal attacks on omegas one of which died from their injuries. He was hoping to get the confession right before the blonde omega interrupted things. But now that Sherlock thought about it, Jeremy had pretty just admitted to the crimes. It wouldn’t take long for Lestrade to break him with that information.

            Jeremy and his lackey, Sean, were homeless on and off. So Sherlock had to pretend to be so as well in order to gain their trust. He was pretty good at it too since his contacts with his homeless network had taught him a lot about the lifestyle. He’d never heard of a homeless omega though. The kid was either incredibly brave or just plain stupid. Sherlock leaned more towards the latter.

            He took out his mobile and began texting Lestrade their location and what happened. This case had been boring until they found the omega. Sherlock had only agreed to help, because Lestrade didn’t have anything better to occupy his time.

Sirens sounded in the distance. He stood from the ground and glanced at Jeremy. The irony wasn’t lost on him that Jeremy’s eventual downfall was caused by an omega, one of the very people he enjoyed attacking. Though that blonde kid wasn’t in any way similar to the omegas Sherlock knew. Sure omegas had equal rights now, but Sherlock noted that a lot of them were still very wary of alphas, and submitted instantly by exposing their necks if an alpha stared too long at them. Omegas feared confrontation, yet this one had walked willingly into the arms of his attacker and incapacitated him in under six seconds while breaking at least three of the alpha’s fingers in the process. Sherlock didn’t want to admit to himself exactly how much that turned him on. _Who was this dangerous omega haunting the alleyways of London?_

He started dwelling on the way the kid growled lowly at him like and alpha. His pupils were darkened, but Sherlock’s sharp senses saw the ring of blue iris. He thought Sherlock was going to attack him, so he tackled him to the ground. They fell hard, and Sherlock went limp so as to make it clear he wasn’t like Jeremy. He wasn’t going to hurt him. God, the way his voice sounded so angry and confident as if he knew he had already won the fight. It was delicious.

Sherlock heard Lestrade’s car approaching their location. Suddenly he realized he didn’t want to deal with the officer or the two panicking cretins in the alley. He was just about to walk away, when he saw that the omega had forgotten his backpack. Perhaps it would contain identification so he could return it. And decidedly _not_ smell whatever clothes were inside. Yeah.

Sherlock retrieved the bag and began walking away from the scene. Jeremy was still having breathing problems, and Sean had given up asking Sherlock for help. He ignored his mobile vibrating his pocket has he took the long walk home.

By the time he was ensconced on his couch in his flat with a warm fire started, it was almost four in the morning. Sherlock unzipped the backpack slowly, and dumped out the contents: one blanket, a pair of jeans, a jumper, a loaf of bread, some pants, an apple, and a water bottle. A separate plastic bag held a carefully folded uniform for a nearby café. The uniform had the name “John” embroidered above the breast pocket. Sherlock frowned. His stomach tightened and he clenched his jaw tighter. These were all things John needed. Sherlock stared at the blanket and imagined John curling up in another alley without any warmth or food. It made him want to go looking for the boy. But he had made it quite clear that he didn’t want anything to do with Sherlock.

Sherlock put everything back inside the bag except the blanket. It was made of soft fleece. He lay on the couch and clutched the blanket to his chest before bringing it up to his nose. _John_. It smelled so strongly of John. The alpha in Sherlock growled contentedly as he hugged the blanket closer and curled up on his side on the couch while he filled his senses with _John_ and slowly drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First omega verse I've written. I'm doing a slightly different take on things. The biggest difference from some omega verse is that people still have different sexualities regardless of biology. 
> 
> The title is from The Beatles' song "Eleanor Rigby." Such a great song, though it has nothing to do with the story. 
> 
> This is a work in progress so feedback is appreciated. I have 4 chapters ready to post now. Not sure how long it'll be. It'll mostly be character driven. The cases will be in the background as the boys navigate feelings, hormones, school and such. Thanks for reading!


	2. Crave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock stalks *coughs* I mean visits John at work.

“John! What the hell happened to you?” his friend Mike asked as John walked into the café where they worked. Mike had already opened the shop up, and there were a few customers sitting at the back of the shop huddled over their coffees.

            “Nothing. Just a fight,” John said.

            Mike frowned. “You should be more careful. Who did it?”

            “Just some street kids. The usual,” John lied, hurrying away. He didn’t want to see the pity reflected in Mike’s face, and he definitely wasn’t going to tell him an alpha did it.

He trudged to the employees’ locker room, and changed into the spare uniform he kept in his locker. He kept most of his more important things like his wallet, books, and his heat suppressants in his locker in case they were lost or stolen on the streets or at the omega homeless shelter he frequented. Last night he worked a double shift and wasn’t able to make it to the shelter before its gates locked at nine, which happened more often than not.

            Before he could make it to the washroom, his boss, Mr. Oliver, stepped in front of him. John was used to looking up at people, but this man was freakishly tall even for an alpha. “Johnny, how do you expect to get tips looking like the front page of a battered omega awareness pamphlet?”

            John frowned. “I was just about to wash the blood off.” He tried side stepping the man, but the bathroom door was blocked yet again.

A hand lightly, but firmly grasped his chin and tilted his face up, so John was forced to look into the man’s eyes. John winced when the man ran a finger over the spreading bruise on his cheek. “How does one wash bruises off I wonder?”

            John pulled away from the hands. God damned alphas and their constant need to touch everything. John would’ve told Mr. Oliver where he could stick those fingers instead, but he didn’t want to lose his job. He had to save up for university. That was why he put up with Oliver and with everyone at this dreadful café. His uniform was specifically tight around the hips and low cut in the front to indicate to every alpha who walked in place that John was an omega. Oliver said it was good for business for most of the baristas to be omegas at his shop. John grudgingly agreed with him, since he could attest that the regulars padded his pockets with tips if he flirted back.

            John pulled away from his boss slowly. His advances always made him uncomfortable, but the man wasn’t overly forceful. John knew he was just lonely ever since his mate had divorced him and had their bond removed. He understood that loneliness. It was like an ache in deep inside him sometimes; a craving for closeness or tenderness. But John always squashed those feelings as soon as they arose. They had never proved beneficial in the long run. The only reason anyone wanted him was because of his scent and his omega status.

            Mr. Oliver seemed to snap out of his small trance when he realized John was trying get by him. He smiled sadly, and held the door open to the omega washroom for John. John slipped inside. Thankfully it was empty. John washed his face and brushed his teeth. He had a shower at the shelter the previous night, so he was presentable enough. His bottom lip was split open from the stupid alpha’s fist, and he had a small shadow of a bruise on his cheek, but it wasn’t too noticeable. It’s not like it mattered what his face looked like anyway.

            The rest of the day passed without incident. John was happy with the tips he made. He decided to leave a little earlier so he could make it to the shelter on time. He only had an hour left on his shift, but tiredness was making his mind fuzzy and his movements slow. It wasn’t the best plan to get stuck on the streets tonight. He might not be able to fend off any attacks if his mind wasn’t sharp.

            After John cleaned the tables, he sat down at one with a tired groan. There was only one customer left: a young alpha huddled in the corner with his fourth cup of tea. He seemed to be glaring at his tea as if he was particularly angry at the brown water. When John looked over at him, his head snapped up and he stared back at John. John held his gaze. The alpha’s eyes were bright and his gaze was calculating, but he wasn’t going to look away like some weak omega. His curly brown hair was a complete mess, and his clothes were mismatched and wrinkled.

John scented the air and realized the young alpha’s scent was familiar. It was strong and calming. It reminded him of a cozy house filled with books, food, and a roaring fire. John could get lost in a scent like that. He’d let it wrap around him like a blanket that was already warmed with someone else’s body heat. John bit his ruined lip and tasted blood. The alpha was still looking at him. A slight smirk tilted his mouth up as if he knew exactly what John was thinking. John glared at him stubbornly. He remembered the scent now. It was that other homeless alpha from the alley; the skinny one who John tackled to the ground before he ran.

John tensed. Had he followed him to work? John recalled that the young alpha had been here most of the day. Mike served him when he periodically ordered mugs of tea. Was he mad that John broke Jeremy’s fingers? Was he waiting for John to get off work so that he could attack him like his stupid friend did? Somehow that didn’t fit with what he had seen of the man. He recalled the limp form under him when he tackled the alpha. He didn’t touch John or force him into submission. And the last thing he had said: _I don’t have any friends_.

            So he was used to being alone. Maybe he’d been on the street longer than John had previously guessed. His skeletal appearance hinted that he wasn’t a stranger to the waves of hunger that wracked through his body when food was scarce. John felt suddenly sad for this rumpled man. A million questions swam in his head. John stood up and walked to the counter. He used some of his money from his tips to pay for a muffin, and he brought it over to the young alpha.

            “Peace offering,” he said. “On the house.”

            “You remember me?” the man’s eyes brightened as he sat up straight in his chair.

            John nodded. “Yeah. It took a while though.” He bit his bloody lip and smiled sadly.

            “Understandable considering your average intelligence and mediocre scenting abilities, and you’re sleep deprived.” The man took a bite out of the muffin, and hummed in pleasure.

            John wasn’t sure if he should feel insulted. “You’ve been here all day.”

            “Obvious.”

            “You’re homeless?”

            “Obvious again.” His words spoke of exasperation, but his tone carried traces of amusement. John sat down across from him. “Do try to be more enlightening, _John_.”

            John knew his name was on his uniform, but he still felt the need to introduce himself. He stuck his hand out for the man to shake. “John Watson.”

            “Sherlock Holmes.” He smiled at the suitable yet unusual name. John shook the man’s hand with a tighter grip than was necessary. Sherlock’s hand was pale and large, and rather cold compared to John’s warmth.

            “Look, you were right. I’m tired so I’m not really looking for a fight tonight. Can we just forget what happened?” John swiped a hand over the bruise on his cheek. Sherlock’s gaze surveyed his face. What he saw there must’ve upset him, because his expression darkened. John knew how to play on an alpha’s protective side. He refrained from smiling and regarded Sherlock passively while blinking his baby blue eyes.

            “I’m not here to hurt you, John. I regret not helping you last night, but it looked as if you had the situation under control.”

            He felt strangely happy that Sherlock recognized his strength, and didn’t immediately disregard John as a threat based on his omega biology. For once he felt like an equal. “I did,” he said.

            Sherlock hummed in agreement while he finished his muffin. “Thanks for that,” he said, gesturing at the crumbs on the table. “I know you paid for it.”

            John shrugged. “I make good tips.”

            “Yes. I’ve noticed.” Sherlock’s tone was slightly bitter. “You’re saving for school, so you can’t afford rent.”

            “Yeah. I’ve worked it out that I’ll be able to start next year with the help of a scholarship. I would’ve started earlier, but I have to buy heat suppressants, and those things take up more than a quarter of what I make.” John didn’t know why he was telling Sherlock this. But the alpha nodded in understanding as if he genuinely cared what John had to say. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

            “You’ve been in the foster care system for a long time,” Sherlock noted. “But you ran away from the last family, because they were mistreating you. You’re seventeen now, and you already completed high school earlier. Judging by the way you fight, you have an above average knowledge of human biology, so you’re probably looking to study medicine. An alpha taught you to fight, because they knew you’d need to defend yourself. An older brother perhaps?”

            John eyes widened. “Sister. She’s the only family I have left. But how could you possibly know that?”

            “I observed.”

“Brilliant.”

Sherlock waved away John’s compliment, but John saw the alpha smile. He tried to deny how attractive he thought that grin was, but it definitely caused his heart to flutter a little faster.

*****

            “What about you then? Why are you on the streets?” John asked.

            Sherlock expected that question. It was part of the plan he had concocted when he awoke in the afternoon. He had to pretend to be homeless in order to gain John’s friendship. Once they were friends, Sherlock would be able to help the infuriating omega. John was too proud to accept Sherlock’s help if he found out that Sherlock was quite rich. He decided against dwelling to long on why he wanted to help John.

            “I’m a recovering cocaine addict. Haven’t gotten back on my feet yet,” he said. It wasn’t quite a lie. But he had long since went through rehab and flushed the drug from his system.

John bit his swollen bottom lip harder than he’d been biting it all day. Sherlock saw blood beading from the tear of flesh. His chest tightened like it had the other night. It was a good thing Lestrade locked up Jeremy in prison, because Sherlock had a sudden desire to rip off the alpha’s penis.

“So, you, um, don’t use anymore?” John asked.

Usually people just ignored him when he mentioned the drugs. It was a taboo subject. John’s curiosity suggested both a concern for Sherlock’s well-being, and a familiarity with addiction. Ah, his sister. Alcoholic most likely.

“No. I’ve been clean for—a while.” Sherlock almost told the truth, five years. But that wouldn’t fit with his story. John was throwing him off his game.

He felt John’s hand rest on top of his and squeeze it momentarily. _So warm_. “That’s good. Good for you.” He smiled encouragingly and then removed his hand.

Sherlock remained silent. He kept his gaze locked with John’s for a long while. Usually omegas looked away from alphas pretty quickly. But not his John. Sherlock smiled and leaned back in his chair satisfied. Not that John was his. _Yet._

“You are strange,” Sherlock finally said. “You like danger. You seek it out. And if you can’t find it, you create it or provoke it.”

John didn’t deny Sherlock’s observations. A mischievous smile spread across his face and crept into the skin around his eyes. “You’re strange too.”

“Oh, really? How so?”

“You’re voluntarily homeless for one thing, and you lied to me and thought I wouldn’t notice. Ever heard of microexpressions?”

 _Ah. Interesting._ Sherlock’s heart started racing. John could probably smell his arousal by now. “Perhaps I underestimated your intelligence.”

“Everyone does. I’m used to it.” John shrugged.

“It’s not because you’re an omega. I underestimate everyone, because they’re all idiots.”

John snorted a laugh. “I remembered that you paid for your tea with a fancy credit card under the name Mycroft Holmes who was in the newspaper not too long ago; something to do with a promotion in politics. Your last name and the credit card suggests you’re related to the posh bastard who was clearly born into money. Your appearance is either a disguise or you’re actually choosing to be homeless.”

Sherlock didn’t argue with John’s observations. “I could’ve stolen the credit card.”

John smiled. “But you didn’t, and what about the name?”

“It could be a fake.” Sherlock’s cheeks were reddening in embarrassment.

“You wish you were that clever.” John leaned back in the chair. Sherlock scoffed as John continued. “I get it. Mommy and daddy had too much money, so you wanted to see what was like on the other side of the tracks. Did the life live up to your glorious expectations, Sherlock _Holmes_?”

There was an edge to John’s tone that Sherlock didn’t like. It was as if John was offended by his choices. Sherlock remained in silent deliberation. He needed to fix this. A customer walked into the café, and John stood up without a parting word, and left Sherlock to stew.

Sherlock watched as John schooled his demeanor into the expression of a pleasant, deferential barista; the mask he wore most of the day. Well, except when he talked to Sherlock. John’s facade had fallen as they talked. And Sherlock had received a glimpse of the kind, earnest, strong, and surprisingly intelligent man that John was. There were also shadows of the pain he’d endured in his young life. Echoes of bitterness. Flashes of distrust. And a deeply buried anger simmering just above the surface. Sherlock wanted to peel away John’s layers, and examine each of his facets in excruciating detail.

            “Hi, Johnny!” the new customer greeted John. “Just the usual for me.” The man sat at a table nearest to the counter and farthest from Sherlock. He was an alpha, and clearly worked long hours at the nearby hospital as he looked rather tired and donned blue scrubs.

            John nodded at him good-naturedly and began brewing some sort of annoying latte. When he brought it to the man, they exchanged wide grins. “How are you, Dr. Kensington?”

            The man sipped at the mug, and nodded as John stood in front of him with his back to Sherlock. “Ah. Thank you. I’m tired. Still have one more surgery tonight. But I always look forward to seeing you, Johnny.”

            Sherlock frowned. The man was patronizing John. He knew from their brief meetings that John would never permit anyone to call him “Johnny.”

            John giggled and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

            Sherlock watched as the man took out his wallet and removed too much money to cover his coffee. He placed the money in John’s back pocket. His hand lingered on John’s hip while his disgusting fingers splayed out on John’s left arse cheek. “I’m good. How are you liking the textbooks?”

            “I’ve almost finished the biochemistry one,” John said proudly. “I’ll get it back to you next month.”

            “You can keep it, Johnny.” The hand squeezed John’s arse harder now before stroking the seam of his tight trousers.

            A growl tore through Sherlock’s chest before he had time to supress it. Both men turned around to face him, as he stood up from his table and stalked towards the pair. “Get your hands off him. John is clearly disgusted by your touch.” Sherlock’s breath was coming out in puffs. He knew his alpha side was making itself known.

            “Ah, John. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend?” the idiot doctor questioned. He looked disappointed, yet calm. His calmness only infuriated Sherlock more.

            John frowned. “I don’t. Sherlock, you need to leave.”

            Sherlock shook his head. He glared at the idiot and tried to think of the quickest way he could kill him. Probably just a broken neck, or a dash of his head against the table. He saw red.

            “Sherlock? Out. Now!”

            Sherlock blinked. He tore his gaze away from the man and it fell on John. John looked worried. Sherlock had scared him. John, who wasn’t scared of midnight fights with alphas in alleyways was scared of Sherlock. A sudden feeling of devastation welled up inside him. He scared John. He needed to make it better before John hated him forever. Vaguely Sherlock realized he was letting his hormones get the best of him. He lost control. That hadn’t happened in years.

            John grabbed the back of Sherlock’s jumper and began half-leading and half-pushing Sherlock out the door. _So strong_. The cold breeze made him shiver after the heat of his anger began leaving his body. John led him away from the shop window before he pushed Sherlock roughly against the brick of the building. “That wasn’t cool, Sherlock! He’s my best customer.”

            “I can see why. That was almost prostitution, John!”

            John’s expression shifted from anger to sadness so quickly. “You don’t get to judge me like that. I work hard.” His hands loosened their hold on Sherlock’s clothes, but didn’t completely let go. He let out a weary sigh. “I hate it. But I don’t have another choice.”

            Sherlock wasn’t doing a good job of fixing his idiocy. John was even more upset than before. “I know you probably think I’m desperate, but I’m not a prostitute.” John bit down so hard on his split lip that blood stained his front teeth.

            “I didn’t mean that. I know you’re not like that. Please… forgive me. I lost control. I just didn’t like the way he was touching you.” Sherlock winced at how pathetic and possessive he sounded.

            “It’s… fine.” John started backing away from him, but he stopped moving when Sherlock whimpered. He gently raised his hands and placed them on John’s biceps.

            “Please. I just need this.” Sherlock hugged him fiercely while lifting him off the ground and rubbing his cheek against John’s neck. The closeness and John’s scent immediately put him at ease.

            “Sherlock, put me down.”

            He ran his nose through John’s hair. He didn’t smell the signs of distress anymore, but he could tell the omega was annoyed with him which was definitely a good sign. He let go, and John stepped away from him. “Stop biting your lip. It’s completely raw,” he said, wiping away the blood on John’s lip with his thumb. John starred at him strangely as if there was something about what he said that was confusing. “I left your backpack in the café. I brought it back for you.”

            “Thank you,” John said, still with that strange look on his face. He turned away from Sherlock, and trudged sleepily back to the door of the café and away from Sherlock.

            Sherlock slumped against the brick wall and pulled at his messy hair. An agonized growl rumbled through his body. John had ruined his plans. It was all so unexpected. How could he convince John to trust him now? Sherlock had acted even worse than all those alphas surreptitiously groping and caressing John and the other baristas. John clearly didn’t want Sherlock or any alpha to touch him. But Sherlock had needed to hug the man. John made him crave a closeness he thought his body had overcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I imagine John singing Donna Summer's "She Works Hard for the Money" in this chapter haha


	3. Something More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Sherlock isn't so bad after all.

John retrieved his army green backpack from under Sherlock’s vacant table, and gave Mr. Kensington back all of his change. He couldn’t help but feel ashamed and dirty after what Sherlock had said. He craved a hot shower and a warm bed, but John knew even that wouldn’t get rid of the grungy feeling that crawled under his skin. Sherlock’s hug had been unexpected. And under regular circumstances John would’ve punched any alpha who tried that with him, but the whimper that had escaped Sherlock’s vocal cords before he hugged him had stunned John. It was such a vulnerable sound that John never thought he’d hear from an alpha. It was as if he wanted to show John that they weren’t that different after all. _I fucked up. I’m weak. We’re the same in our own twisted way, aren’t we, John? Hug me. I need a hug._ So, John let Sherlock steal a hug. His touch wasn’t motivated by lust or an urge to dominate. _I don’t have any friends,_ he had said.John swallowed the lump in his throat.

            When the last customer finally left, John closed the café a little earlier than usual. As he expected, Sherlock was still where John had left him. “Go home, Sherlock,” John said. As he began walking towards the shelter, Sherlock rose and followed him.

“You were wrong earlier. I was voluntarily homeless because I was trying to catch a criminal; a man who attacks omegas. I was undercover. I’m a consulting detective. The only one in the world.”

John processed this information slowly. So this alpha is some kind of detective? That would explain his… eccentricities. “I’ll humour you even though I still can’t fully trust you. What does a consulting detective do?”

“I assist the police when they’re out of their depth which is always.”

            John nodded sleepily smiling at the alpha’s arrogance. “I had a feeling that you were brilliant. Solving murders and bringing justice to the world! And here I accused you of being a selfish, posh, junkie bastard. Now I feel awful.”

            Sherlock laughed. “I’m no angel, John. I am a selfish, posh, _ex_ -junkie bastard, which is probably why I have no friends.”

            “You have no friends because you act like a total cock,” he countered, hoping Sherlock took it as a joke.

            “I did apologize, something I rarely do.”

            John laughed. “I knew that.” He punched Sherlock’s arm playfully. “I’d be your friend if you stop lying to me.”

            “Understandable.” Sherlock sounded resigned as if he was expecting John to banish him from his presence any second.

John clearly held the cards now. He sighed. It’s not as if Sherlock was completely intolerable. Despite the debacle at the café, he did seem like a respectful alpha for the most part. And there had been a moment after John snapped Sherlock out of his feral state where he seemed genuinely concerned about John. The alphas in the café usually didn’t make eye contact with him, but Sherlock looked right into John’s face with his scarily intelligent gaze and seemed to see something _more_. And then he wiped the blood off John’s lip. Perhaps Sherlock Holmes was all right.“Just tell me six true things about you, and maybe I’ll agree to see you again,” John said.

Sherlock took a deep breath as he thought of something to say. “I’m twenty-two. I’m studying chemistry. I’ve been off the drugs for five years. I have a flat near here. I play the violin. My brother is aspiring to become the British government.”

            John grinned. “See. That wasn’t hard. A musical detective chemist. Brilliant!”

            Sherlock was pleased with John’s praise. “I was going to pretend to be homeless in order to gain your trust, but you were obviously too smart for that.”     

            John nodded. “I also noticed your, um, scent changed when I caught you in the lie.” Sherlock’s pale face reddened. John admired the effect the redness had on his impressive cheekbones. He bumped into the taller man playfully. “I’m just teasing you.”

            Sherlock swallowed audibly. “Intelligence is a completely normal characteristic to be attracted to,” he said defensively.

            “Better that than my arse,” he said.

            “That’s nice too.”

            John shook his head bemusedly. They had arrived in front of the familiar white building at the end of the street. “Well, this is where I’m staying tonight.” They stood awkwardly in front of the wide porch. The light was on and John caught a glimpse of someone looking out of the window. Sherlock frowned up at the building as if its presence had personally insulted him. “This place is dreadful, John.”

            He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Better than where I was last night… or two years ago for that matter.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and shivered. Sherlock’s tummy clenched painfully. He wanted to hug John again, but it was probably an inappropriate time. “Hey, don’t look like that. Don’t pity me. I don’t want that,” he said quickly.

            “I’m… not.”

            “Sherlock, look, I appreciate your concern or whatever that was at the café. But I don’t need your protection. I’m doing fine on my own. Great actually.” John’s face slipped into one of his fake smiles he wore for customers. He had given this speech to other people before. Sherlock’s immediate grimace indicated he probably knew John was trying to let him down easy.

“I know you can take care of yourself. I saw that last night. You’re not afraid.” Sherlock’s hands were shaking as if he needed a cigarette.

            John’s eyebrows rose. “That’s… good.” He nodded as if he was trying to convince himself more than simply replying to Sherlock.

            “I also know you were amendable to my hug,” Sherlock said. John recalled how he had relaxed in the alpha’s arms despite his annoyance at being lifted off his feet.

            “Ha. Don’t push your luck, Holmes. I’ll see you later.” John winked at him before backing away and climbing the porch steps.

            “Luck doesn’t exist.” John heard him say quietly as he shut the door. He sighed and leaned against the door. Sherlock was so weird, but in the best possible way.

John heard someone approaching. “John Watson, why do you reek of alpha?” Molly exited the sitting room and leaned up against the wall to glare at John.

            “I served coffee to countless alphas today, Molly,” he deadpanned. He wasn’t willing to tell anyone about Sherlock yet.

            Molly’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “You smell like one alpha. It’s quite a nice scent.”

“Stop smelling me. I know I need a shower,” he said, waving her away. Molly was a nice girl. An omega who volunteered at the shelter periodically when she wasn’t busy with school work. He watched as the girl wrote his name down on the registry, and gave him his usual room key. John thanked her and then ran up the stairs to his tiny room. His roommate, Bill, was already asleep on the bottom bunk, so John was careful not to wake him. After he showered and ate some of the soup that someone had left for him in the kitchen, he put all of his clothes in the washing machine and then retired to bed.

When he removed his blanket from his backpack, he immediately smelled Sherlock. The scent was so strong that John was positive the alpha had wrapped it around his neck for hours. John deigned not to feel irritated that Sherlock went through his things, partially because he was too tired to be angry, and also because Sherlock did smell rather nice. John smiled, wrapped himself in the blanket, and fell asleep.

****

            Sherlock glared at the lonely, white building that now encased John. At least he’d be safe and warm tonight even if he wasn’t with Sherlock. He decided to walk the long way home so he could think. Sherlock wasn’t sure what he wanted from John. He had long since decided he wasn’t looking for a relationship with someone, god forbid a bond. But the thought of spending more time with John wasn’t completely terrible. It was quite nice actually.

Sherlock jammed his hands into his trouser pockets and snarled exasperatedly. How was one little, blonde omega able to change his whole outlook on life? Sherlock recalled John’s strength and speed, and the fiercely stubborn way he conducted himself. He recalled John spending his hard-earned money on food for Sherlock, and the easy, encouraging smile he gave him when Sherlock told him that he was a recovered drug addict. And he couldn’t forget how those strong hands had manhandled him out of the building and then pushed him against it even though he had been exhibiting signs of becoming feral. Any average omega would’ve bolted as far away from him as possible. But John was far from average, and that’s why Sherlock was so intrigued (and maybe a little bit obsessed) with John.

For the short time Sherlock attended high school (before he was deemed to gifted to bother with it), he glimpsed what happened when people fell in love and bonded. He didn’t want to become some drooling, obsessive, sex-crazed imbecile. So at wise age of fourteen Sherlock had decided that he was above love, and he had never looked back; until now, that is. The only question that remained was if John would be amendable to his interest.

Perhaps he could woo him with chemistry books and his medical knowledge. Better him than that infuriating doctor that came to the café. Sherlock fumed silently. That man treated John like an object to touch and pet for his own pleasure. The condescension indicated he was just humouring John. He didn’t really believe the omega was smart enough to get into university. But of course that man was an idiot.

Just from the short time Sherlock had observed John, he knew the man was so much more than whatever that disgusting doctor thought of him. Sherlock wished he had a cigarette, but he had left them in his coat pocket at his flat. Of course his whole disguise was pointless now too. John had saw to that. Sherlock smiled. He had finally found the one person in the world who wasn’t a complete idiot, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose him.

            Sherlock paused in the middle of the sidewalk. A car had been following him, but he had only just noticed. Mycroft’s car. Mycroft monitored him constantly much to Sherlock’s displeasure. It did no good to ignore the man, so Sherlock crossed the road and threw open the car door. “Slumming it now, are you, brother mine?” Mycroft asked, taking in Sherlock’s appearance. “Greg told me that your case was finished.”

            Sherlock climbed inside the car, and sat beside his brother so he wouldn’t be forced to look at his face. He leaned his head against the tinted glass instead. “I was gathering information on someone.”

            “John Watson.”

            Sherlock cringed. Of course Mycroft already knew who he was following today. “You already read his files,” Sherlock noted.

            “Yes.”

            “He’s not a drug dealer.”

            “I know.”

            Both brothers remained silent for a while. Sherlock noticed that the driver was taking them to his flat. “What do you plan to do with John?” Mycroft asked eventually.

            “I don’t know,” Sherlock lied. “Perhaps he could help me out on cases. He’s a good fighter.” Sherlock knew Mycroft sensed that Sherlock was on the defensive.

            “You already care for him. Have you scented him?”

            Sherlock swallowed audibly, and didn’t answer. That was enough of an answer as Mycroft needed. “Sherlock, this kid has been through a lot. Dead parents. He ran away from every foster home he was put in, because they split up him and his sister. She’s an alpha with military training, but they discharged her quietly because she couldn’t control her alcoholism. They were found living together on the streets until they were put back into the system. He ran away from the last house he was with, but since he’s of legal age he doesn’t technically need a guardian anymore.”

            Sherlock knew Mycroft told him this to scare him away from John. Mycroft saw John as damaged goods; something volatile waiting to explode and destroy everything in its path. But that wasn’t John. John was the embodiment of strength. He survived even when the world was against him, and he kept a smile on his face and he bought muffins for strangers while doing it. Mycroft’s words only made Sherlock ache with a need to wrap John in his arms and protect him from further harm. He wasn’t damaged or broken. He was real and raw and just _John_.

            “I just want to know him, Mycroft.” Sherlock said quietly after an inordinate amount of silence. The car had stopped in front of Sherlock’s flat, but he didn’t get out. He looked over at Mycroft, and he saw a brief expression of surprise cross his features before they were schooled into his usual composure. Mycroft was always so good at reading his brother’s emotions, whereas others claimed Sherlock had none at all. Sherlock knew his blossoming feelings for John were written all over his face.

            “A boy like that won’t be kept, Sherlock,” Mycroft said. “They’re always running from something.”

            “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Caging John in was the last thing on Sherlock’s mind. He wanted to let him out. He wanted others to see the potential John saw in himself. If John was going to run, Sherlock wanted to be right beside him.


	4. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds a way to take the edge off of his anger issues. Sherlock won't be pleased.

Bill woke up John the next morning with his loud exclamation. “John, you promised to be more careful! Who did that to you?” He felt warm hands on his face, as Bill stroked a finger down John’s bruised cheek.

            “Leave it, Bill,” John pushed the hands away. “I’m asleep,” he mumbled.

            Bill chuckled. “Yeah, right. But really. Who did it?”

            “Just fucking forget about it,” John snapped. Bill remained quiet, and John opened one eye to glare at him. The omega stood on the ladder of the bunk bed and stared back at John sadly. “Oh don’t look at me like that,” he groaned. “Come here.”

Bill grinned and climbed the rest of the way onto John’s bed. “That trick only works on alphas and you.”

Bill was a brown-haired omega who was John’s age. He was taller than John with deep green eyes and a rather skinny frame. They met at the shelter and had become fast friends. Omegas in general found comfort in each other’s presence and physical contact. But Bill especially loved cuddling, and John couldn’t turn him down with that look in his eyes. Bill crawled into the small space against the wall beside John. He rested an arm on John’s waist while his other hand played with John’s golden hair. John sighed and dipped his head closer into the groove of Bill’s neck. “I’m too tired to talk about it,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

Bills arms tightened around him. “I know. I’m sorry for waking you, John. You work too damn much.” John’s nose snuffled as he pressed his face deeper into the pillows and fell asleep.

            When he woke up again, Bill was mostly laying his head and upper body on John’s chest while their legs intertwined. John tapped the omega’s head lightly. “Wake up. You’re crushing me.”

            Bill lifted his head slowly, before raising it and laying on John’s shoulder instead. “God, you’re just so damn comfortable like a pillow.” John saw an amused smirk spread across Bill’s face.

            “Hey! Are you calling me soft?” John nudged Bill off of him roughly before sitting up and pushing the struggling boy down and pinning him to the bed. John swung a leg over Bill’s hips and pressed him firmly into the mattress. “I’m still stronger than you.”

Bill lifted an eyebrow at John. He was breathing fast from his nose, but he didn’t seem inclined to struggle out of John’s grasp. “You have no idea how hot that is, John.”

John let out a bark of laughter as he saw Bill’s cheeks start to heat up. Bill was always saying stuff like that. They had fooled around a bit before when they found out that they were both bisexual, but John didn’t want to take it further than kissing and clothed groping. “I’m serious. I swear you’re an alpha in the wrong body sometimes.”

John frowned. “Shut up. I’m not a stupid alpha,” he growled.

“Says the guy who just mounted me.”

John growled again and dipped his head lower, so his lips were inches from Bill’s. “I’m just John,” he said.

John watched as Bill surveyed his face, his eyes resting on John’s injuries. “I know.”

John tensed as Bill’s hand rested on his pyjama clad bum. “Will you kiss me?” Bill asked so quietly. John regarded Bill’s thin, dry lips before pressing his mouth against them briefly. He used his upper body strength to linger just above him without crushing him. Bill’s mouth followed his hungrily. John decided to give in and just kiss him. He was still sleepy so it didn’t turn into anything too heated. In fact with each swipe of tongue and press of lips, John got more relaxed. He eventually lay beside Bill and cradled his face in his left hand while they languidly made out. Bill’s fingers tentatively snuck under the waistband of John’s trousers. John let out a low groan and Bill whimpered into his mouth.

“Oh John. You’re making me so slick,” Bill said. He sounded drunk off of John’s kisses.

John smiled and kissed his neck. He was completely erect in his pyjamas, but he felt content to continue their lazy kissing. Bill was increasingly getting more vocal and he started squirming around to get closer to John. “Are you wet for me too, John?”

John wasn’t surprised by Bill’s dirty talk. The boy did have a mouth on him. “Maybe,” John said, biting down a little harder than necessary on Bill’s neck.

Bill cried out as his hand slipped lower onto John’s bare ass. He felt fingers skim along the cleft of his cheeks. “Mmm you are.” John sucked in a breath in surprise. It felt good, but also a bit weird. This was Bill. His friend. As Bill’s finger pressed into him, John let out a surprised noise. “So you are an omega,” he said just as John started to pull away.

“Stop, Bill. Just Stop.” Bill’s hands stopped immediately, and he pulled them out of John’s pants.

John moved away from him slowly. He didn’t want Bill to think he was rejecting him. Omegas tended to take that sort of thing to heart. John moved so that he was at the end of the bed near the ladder. Bill was flushed and his eyes were darker than normal. He sat up, curled his knees against his body to hide his arousal, and dropped his face into his hands. “Jesus. I’m sorry, John,” he mumbled clearly embarrassed.

John was surprised at how small Bill looked just then. “It’s fine. Don’t apologize.” He scooted closer and placed a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Please don’t feel bad.” He leaned into him playfully.

Bill raised his head and regarded John sadly. “It just gets so bad sometimes,” he said, his lip pouting in a way that John didn’t think he’d ever accomplish.

“I know. I know.” John rubbed his back. “You just gotta remember that this isn’t our whole life.” He waved his hand around the sparse room containing a bunk bed and their respective backpacks on the floor. The walls were white washed, and had various dents and names carved into it from people who had long since escaped poverty.

            “The loneliness… it lingers in here.” Bill looked at the wall disgustedly. “Sometimes it’s nice to feel like someone cares. That someone wants me. Even if it’s for a little bit.”

            John nodded solemnly. “I understand. It’s not that I don’t want you. I just… I don’t think I’m ready, and you’re my friend….” John trailed off. He was starting to feel embarrassed too.

            Bill looked over at him. A little smirk played across his lips. “Look at us,” Bill laughed. “Two blushing omega virgins.” He fell back on the bed with his hand above his head as if feigning a swoon. “What ever will we do?”

            John shook his head bemusedly at his friend, and then started climbing down the ladder. He dressed quickly while Bill lazed about on his bed.

“Why does your blanket stink like an alpha?” he asked.

            John quickly jumped on the bottom bunk so he could reach the blanket and pull it from Bill’s grasp. “It doesn’t stink,” he insisted.

            “Yes. It does.”

            John folded the blanket, shoved it into backpack, and zipped it up. His cheeks were bright red. “I don’t know why it smells like him.”

            “Like who?” Bill was frowning now and leaning off the bed.

            “Sherlock. I met him the other night.” John decided to not make eye contact with his friend anymore. He didn’t want Bill to know that he was at least physically attracted to Sherlock and he thought he was at least passably brilliant, even though the alpha was a completely arrogant, possessive arse.

            John opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “Did he do that to your face, John?” Bill followed close behind him. “I’ll kill him. I swear I will.”

            “No!” John said too loudly, rounding on Bill. “He didn’t. This doesn’t even matter. I’ve had worse. And it never matters. I don’t care.” John winced. He didn’t mean to scream at Bill, but it was too late now. He backed away from him and bit his lip to keep from saying anything else.

            Bill’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as John turned away from him. He began walking down the stairs, but he still heard Bill’s reply. “Well I care, John. And it does matter. You matter.”

            John couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. “You sound like a self-help book for thirty-something single omega parents.” For some reason he felt anger building up inside him, and he had a sudden urge to kick something.

            He made his way into the kitchen and decided to make some eggs for breakfast. As they sizzled away in the pan, an omega volunteer passed by the kitchen to hand him a letter that had arrived for him the other day. He knew what it was as soon as it was placed in his hand. It was either a confirmation of his scholarship or a rejection. John had applied for it months ago. His essay for it was spotless, and his marks from high school were significantly above average. He knew what he wanted in life, before most of his peers even got their first job. He worked hard for his marks and even took courses in the summer so he could finish early. For most of his high school years he lived with the same foster family. He shivered and willed his brain not to think of _them_.

            His hands shook as he ripped open the envelope and pulled the paper free. He read the letter over a few times, and with each word, his stomach twisted and his heart increased its ragged rhythm. He didn’t get the scholarship. They promised him a smaller amount of money because of his impressive marks, but it was barely enough to pay for his books for a year. Momentarily he mourned the loss of the one thing he was holding out hope for. He stared down at the sentences before him. _We regret to inform you that you do not meet the criteria for this scholarship._

“Criteria my arse,” John growled. Those words were awfully familiar to him. They prevented John from joining rugby in high school, and prevented him from joining the army after graduation. His sadness morphed into anger pretty quickly. He threw out the offending paper and turned towards his breakfast which was now burned into a disgusting black lump inside the pan. “Fuck damn it.” He threw the pan into the sink.

            “John Watson! I don’t want to hear that foul language in this house.”

            John rounded on whoever was behind him, ready to throw more insults about. But his mouth snapped shut when he realized it was Mrs. Hudson, the nice beta lady who volunteered at the shelter in the morning. A low growl escaped his mouth regardless. He felt so angry that he could almost cry.

            “Burned your eggs, dear?”

            John nodded, breathing out quickly from his nose. “I’ll clean it up later. I just really need to get out of here.”

            Mrs. Hudson nodded sympathetically. She touched John’s cheek gently as he passed by. John saw her regarding his injuries, but she had long since learned that he hated her constant worry. “You’re a good boy, John,” she said softly. He gave her a rather pained smile before slipping away.

            When his anger got really bad, John developed the technique of taking it out on inanimate objects in the backyard. Right now he was feeling thunderous. He retrieved his usual victims, a rusted rubbish can and a pink lawn chair from the shed, and starting kicking them and throwing against the fence them until his shins felt bruised and his chest heaved. He knew he looked like an idiot, but it really made him feel better. This type of emotional release was probably the only way he could put up with all of the alphas at the coffee shop.

            He leaned against the wall and tried to school his emotions into a less turbulent mess. He chewed his lip till it bled, and scrunched his hands into fists. He wasn’t stupid enough to punch the brick wall, although sometimes it was tempting. Pain distracted him from his infuriating emotions.

He heard the back door open. “John?” Molly called tentatively.

“Over here.”

Molly smiled, stepped outside, and walked towards him. John noticed how she pointedly ignored the dented rubbish can and pieces of cracked lawn chair that littered the tiny yard. Her face still held this vaguely creepy, strained smile.  He knew she was feigning her cheerfulness so as not to set him on edge. She leaned against the wall beside him. “I just wanted to know if you took your heat suppressants today.”

“Yes. I was going to have them with breakfast, but that didn’t work out.” John laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What brand do you use?” she asked, taking out a small red box from the pocket on her jumper. “I find that these ones work really well.”

John frowned. “Ah, well. I just get the cheapest brand. He took out his box of tiny lime green pills to show her. She took it from him, and held it up to read the label.

“My sisters used to take these. The side effects were awful. One minute she’d want to rip my hair out, and the next minute she’d be hugging me and crying like a lunatic.”

John sighed, took the green box back and put it in his pocket. “They’re all I can afford right now, Molly. It’s not that bad. I mean sure I get mood swings, but I haven’t killed anyone yet, so there’s a plus.” Molly frowned. He should have known that she wouldn’t laugh at a joke about murder.

“The doctor gave me an extra package this month, John. I want you to take it.” She tried to press the red box into his hand, but he dropped his arm to his side and shook his head.

“I know Mrs. Hudson bought those. I can’t take her money. She already does so much for us here.” He knew Mrs. Hudson was buying those pills for Bill as well as few other omegas in the shelter.

“I told her that you’d figure it out.”

John nodded. “It’s not that I’m too proud or whatever… I just _can’t_. I need to take care of myself. Things aren’t always handed to me, so I have to learn to just deal with it on my own. I’m already a huge charity case as it is.” He needed Molly to understand this, but he could see that she didn’t get it. Her lip slipped into a pout and her eyes glistened almost like a puppy’s or like Bill’s had earlier. God damn, these people were killing him today.

            “I have to go to work, Molly.” He walked past her and into the house without waiting for a goodbye.

The explosive anger was still coiled inside him, so it probably was a good idea to stay away from people. Realistically, John knew that his heat suppressants weren’t fully to blame for his moods. The Watsons were notorious for their flaming tempers. Before he even took the damn pills he felt these uncontrollable urges to control, to dominate, and to fight. He craved something _more_.

Two years ago he held a gun for the first time at a shooting range. Harry had paid for his lessons for his birthday. Shooting felt so much better than kicking lawn chairs across the yard, but he had to improvise. Both Harry and the firearms instructor were surprised at how quickly John learned to shoot. He was in his element there. He loved the vibration of the shot echoing through his body as he forced the deadly weapon to do his bidding. It was pure power contained in something so small. Of course he couldn’t afford to go to shooting ranges often, so he had to make do with his fists and lawn chairs.

John sighed, feeling pathetic and sorry for himself. He decided to collect his stuff from the house and go into work early. Bill lounged moodily on his bed when John entered the room. Usually John would’ve just ignored the boy’s silence, but he didn’t want to leave on a sour note. “Hey, I won’t be back tonight. I’ve decided to visit Harry for a bit.” Bill grumbled something unintelligible in response as John walked out of the bedroom door.

*****

            It’s not as if Sherlock had intended to spy on John that day. He really wanted to just greet him and take him out to breakfast before the kid worked himself ragged. However, just as Sherlock was about to knock on the door to the shelter, he heard some strange clanging noises accompanied by a human growling angrily. Sherlock knew that growl. He had it stored in his Mind Palace for the next time he decided to wank.

            Sherlock walked around the periphery of the property, and peered through a knot in the wood of the fence. He glimpsed John kicking a rubbish bin over and over while growling and cursing obscenely. Sherlock frowned. Usually if he saw someone doing that, he’d think they were ridiculous and slightly insane, but the look on John’s face stilled him. He felt his heart clench. John was clearly furious, but the clench to his teeth and the droop to his eyes betrayed a raw sadness within him. No one was around to see that John was hurting immensely. He let down his walls, and indulged in the misery that he felt selfish for feeling.

            Sherlock sighed. He wanted to tell John that it was okay to feel like shit, to feel angry with the world. John deserved better, but he obviously feels selfish for wishing it. Sometimes all there is to do is rage and rage until we find the light again. Sherlock learned that lesson already; admittedly under unrelated circumstances. Whatever John’s reason for his anger, Sherlock watched him for a bit longer. He was mesmerized. He saw the exchange John had with the girl he called Molly. Sherlock recalled seeing her lurking in the chemistry labs at school a lot, though he always forgot her name.

            Sherlock’s phone began buzzing in his pocket. Lestrade had a crime scene. Before Sherlock left he made a mental note to do a chemical breakdown analysis of the suppressants that John was taking. He tried to convince himself that he needed information on the side-effects of certain chemicals for his research, and it wasn’t out of compassion for John.

******

            John’s day and mood hadn’t improved in the slightest. In fact, his boss actually told him to go home early, because he had snapped at one too many customers. Usually he could take the flirting and the touching of the alphas. He always told himself that it wasn’t permanent. It was just tiny fork in the road of his life; a road that led to so much better things if he just persisted.

The bad news about his scholarship made him feel as if he didn’t have a way out of this particular fork. He didn’t have a backup plan. What if he was still working at the coffee shop years from now, basically prostituting himself to alphas for measly tips? That thought was accompanied by the memory of what Sherlock had said to him last night, which made him snarl at the last alpha customer who touched him. John grabbed him by the wrist and threw their hand off with disgust before stalking away.

He knew he was in trouble when the customer in question asked to see John’s boss. John had to apologize, which he promptly did as he didn’t want to lose his job. Mr. Oliver seemed less amiable towards John today, and he pulled John aside after the customer had left.

            “I think you should take the rest of the day off, John,” he said. “Or maybe the week.”

            John’s pulse picked up immediately in fear. He couldn’t afford to lose that much money. Was Mr. Oliver going to fire him? “I’ll do better, sir. I just have got a lot on my mind,” he said, licking his lips nervously.

            Mr. Oliver nodded. “Just remember that you have to leave your problems at home. Customers don’t care about your excuses.”

            “I know. I know. It won’t happen again.” John mumbled. He’d had this speech given to him before. Mr. Oliver didn’t look convinced, so John decided to implement the acting skills that he had developed. It was quite easy to play the distressed omega. He blinked rapidly a couple times until a couple tears formed in his eyes. “It’s just so hard sometimes,” he said. “The hormones get me so emotional and… and he grabbed me. I didn’t know what else to do. It hurt.”

            Mr. Oliver practically melted at John’s speech and his deceiving blue clustered with tears. “Oh, Johnny. I didn’t know it was that bad. C’mere.” He pulled John into a hug.

            John smiled. It was a small victory. The idiocy of his speech counteracted any embarrassment he felt at pretending weakness. Harry had always taught him to use his status as an advantage. Manipulation was one of John’s many God-given talents. Harry had never once told John that he was weak. She made him see the benefits to his biology that most people overlooked. “You can take the rest of the day off, John. Just come back whenever you’re feeling better.”

            Well, at least he wasn’t fired. John acquiesced and bid Mr. Oliver goodbye. He grabbed his backpack from the locker and left the café. He saw Mike’s worried frown as he left, but he didn’t bother explaining anything. At least he had more time to catch up with Harry. She lived in a shithole flat with her girlfriend. John had stayed there a few times, but usually he felt the need to leave pretty soon after arriving. He loved Harry fiercely, and he could never repay her for the lessons she taught him, and how she protected him when he was younger, but lately they couldn’t stand to be around each other for very long without fighting.

            John dragged his feet as he walked slowly to his sister’s flat. It was quite a distance, and John was feeling hungry, so he walked slowly to conserve energy. When he got to the flat Clara let him inside. She was a beautiful, dark-skinned omega woman who Harry had fallen for before she had been discharged from the army. Clara had that ingrained omega submissiveness to her, but John could tell that the woman was strong by the set of her jaw and the way she held herself. She had to be strong if she put up with Harry’s shit all the time.

            “John, it’s good to see you,” Clara said. “Come in.”

            John smiled and hugged Clara briefly. “How’s everything going?” he asked, searching her face for signs of distress. She looked tired, but not unhappy.

            “We’re doing better than before. Harry still doesn’t have a job, but she’s been… um… gambling. I know it’s not the most honest way of making money, but she’s been successful as of late.” Clara shrugged.

            John frowned. He didn’t know Harry started gambling. “Where is she?”

            “Sleeping on the couch.” John walked past Clara and into the small flat. It did look a bit tidier than the last time he saw it. Harry Watson lay stretched out on the couch and snoring rather loudly. He was about to wake her up, but Clara touched his arm to stop him. “She doesn’t sleep much at night, John. Best leave her.”

            “What kind of gambling is she doing?” he asked. “How the hell does she have any money for that?”

            Clara gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen as she began explaining. “Well she found this group of alphas mostly who like to beat each other up for fun and bet on winners. She’s not dumb. She only bets small amounts and she only takes on alphas she know she can beat.”

            As Clara spoke, John’s eyebrows rose higher and higher. “She is a magnificent fighter,” he agreed. “Fighting is an art on its own, but Harry fighting is… something else,” John said, recalling the some specific fights they had gotten themselves into.

            Clara shivered and shook her head. “I refuse to watch that sort of thing. And of course I worry about her, but really she seems more focused on boxing and training than drinking, which is definitely the healthier option.”

            John nodded. “She is rather single-minded.” He slowly inched towards the refrigerator and saw that the food greatly outnumbered the beer. He smiled. Hopefully Harry would be able to keep it up. “Do you mind if I make something to eat?” he asked.

            “Not at all, John. Help yourself. I have to leave soon. My brother needs me to babysit his kids for a while.” Clara bid him farewell as she left to get ready.

            After John began frying some eggs and sausages, he heard Harry stirring in the living room. “Mmmm, that smells delicious, love,” she called pointedly.

John laughed quietly to himself. “You can cook your own food, _love_.”

“John?!” Harry appeared in the kitchen before he turned around. He almost expected her to hug him, but instead she punched him hard in the bicep. “You arse! You haven’t visited in ages!”

“Ow!” he said, rubbing his arm. “I’ve been busy.” Her punch actually hurt more than he had expected it would. But now that he got a good look at his sister, John noticed that she definitely looked like she was putting on more muscle mass. The tank top she wore showed off her defined biceps and the scattering of tattoos she acquired over the years on her arms and chest. The sallow quality her skin held the last time John saw her was replaced with a rather healthy glow despite a fresh black eye and numerous bruises and scrapes.

John grinned at her. “You’re looking better, Harry,” he said honestly.

She sat down at the kitchen table. “Funny. Clara told me I looked like shit this morning.”

“She’s just worried.” John dumped the food from the frying pan onto a plate and started wolfing it down while he stood at the counter.

“I suppose she’s told you about the boxing?”

John nodded and shrugged to indicate that it didn’t bother him. “We Watsons have to play to our strengths,” John mumbled through a mouthful of food. It was just a stupid saying that Harry had always told him, especially when they engaged in morally questionable activities.

A slow, sad smile spread across Harry’s face. “So, what about you, John? Are you okay?” Her swollen eye and her good eye regarded him seriously.

John swallowed his huge bite of food before replying. “I didn’t get the scholarship,” he said quickly. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to work more hours or get two jobs.”

Harry frowned, and leaned her head onto her hands. Her short, dirty blond hair fell across her forehead. “Those fuckers! You deserve that damned scholarship more than anyone,” she growled.

John nodded and crossed the small kitchen so he could sit across from his sister at the table. “There’s nothing I can do about it. All I know is that I need to go to university. My brain is desiccating while I work at that coffee shop. It sets me so on edge, Harry. You have no idea!” he groaned and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl in front of him, so he could squash it in his fist. “It gets so bad sometimes. I really wanted to break that alpha’s nose today when he touched me at work. The boss sent me home early because I _growled_ at him.” John continued to pulverize the banana while scowling at the memory of his stupid boss.

Harry barked out a bitter laugh. “Little do those idiots know that John Watson could serve them on a platter to the nearest hospital.”

            “That’s kind of the point; element of surprise and all that jazz,” John grumbled, looking down at the squashed banana that had now thoroughly lost its phallic shape. John stood up so he could throw it out and wash his hand off. Harry remained curiously quiet as John leaned on the counter and resumed eating his eggs.

            After a moment of silence, Harry stood up from the table quickly and regarded her brother. “You know, John, you’re really pretty,” she said in a voice that suggested she was just stating facts.

            John rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he said with his mouth full.

            “No, like really pretty. Mom always said you got the looks. Those huge blue eyes and that lighter hair than me, and the fact that you just look so huggable.”

            An image of Sherlock pulling John into his arms last night surfaced in his mind. He blushed immediately. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Omega biology. We’re cute so as to deter alphas from killing us. It’s the same thing with babies,” he said.

            Harry nodded. John sensed that she was working her way up to revealing one of her grand schemes. “Well, I know that you’re not all that harmless. Far from it. You could do so well in the ring, John. The first night would be the best because no one would know what to expect, and I could bet whatever I wanted. I know you’d win. And even if you didn’t, it’d still take that edge off, wouldn’t it? You could beat alphas to a pulp and not even get fired.”

            As Harry spoke John felt a delicious spark of excitement vibrate though his body, since he was actually contemplating going through with her idea. It seemed like the perfect plan. Maybe he’d even make some money to help with school. But he was kidding himself if he didn’t admit that the biggest advantage of the idea was the danger. Danger was John Watson’s drug of choice and he couldn’t get enough of it. “I’m in,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that Sherlock didn't appear much in this chapter. His activities in this chapter weren't as crucial to the plot, and I wanted to get the ball rolling with John's story. Mr. musical detective chemist will definitely appear more in the next chapter ;) In other news I love my version of Harry Watson. She's so hot and badass! I might have to do a separate book for her!


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